Saturday, January 30, 2016

This
podcast features TL Wood, author of Eldohr
Adventures: Search for the Lost Kingdom and Eldohr Adventures: Quest
for Windsoar. And Brae Wyckoff, author of The Orb of Truth, The
Vampire King, The Dragon God.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Marice Houston is a Deputy
Federal Marshal stationed in Kansas City, Missouri. She hasn't been
back to her alma mater for a good many years, but she's come back for
her tenth college reunion. While there, she sees Kris Hood—a
regrets guy, the one who was never more than a friend. They finally
kindle the relationship that neither of them really realized they
wanted. They meet up with some friends, old and new, for breakfast.

“You never could hold your
alcohol,” Kris teased. “One of the many things I love about you.”
He kissed me on the forehead.

“You love that I can't drink
booze? What's up with that?” I slurred.

“Makes you a cheap date,”
Brian added, nudging me.

“I'll just eat twice as much to
compensate,” I decided.

Rose giggled. I giggled. Nadine
giggled. The men moved the pitchers of mimosas away from us.

“I'm cutting off your supply,
young lady,” Kris scolded with a smile.

“As long as it's the mimosas
and not the orgasms, that's okay.”

“Did you mean to say that so
loudly?”

“No. But you got me drunk. Now
you have to put up with my lack of self-control.”

My
next guest is new to the show. We're delighted to welcome Hebby
Roman, author of Princess and the Templar, Tempt Fortune, Summer
Dreams and more! Hebby will be chatting with us from 4:40 – 5:20 PM
EST (3 CST, 2 MST, 1 PST)

My
last guest is no stranger to the show. We happily welcome
back Marsha Casper Cook, author of I Wish I was a Brownie, Virginia
Templeton Stories, Snack Attack and many more. Marsha will be on 5:20
– 6:00 PM EST (3 CST, 2 MST, 1 PST)

Saturday, January 23, 2016

This
lively interview originally aired on Wednesday, December 8, 2014 with
two of my favorite authors: M. Anna Black, author of Witched
and Forever Witched. And M.P. Witwer, author of Writer's Block and
Twist of Fate, among others.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Portia
went to dinner with Wood and afterward, they did some talking and a
lot of kissing on the couch—until someone set her chicken coop on
fire. Fortunately, here were no chickens in it. Wood agrees to spend
the night, sleeping in the guest room, so Portia won't be alone at
night.

Someone
tapped on my bedroom door. Groaning, I glanced at the clock. It was
almost 9:00.

"Yeah?"

"Coffee,"
Wood sounded cheerful.

"Be
right there."

I
went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked
ghastly. A cold washcloth helped, as did brushing my hair. I threw on
a T-shirt and yoga pants, foregoing a bra because I simply didn't
feel like putting one on. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought
I was hung over. The aspirin were still by the bed, so I swallowed a
couple with a handful of water from the tap.

The
coffee smelled delicious. I also detected the distinct aroma of baked
goods. When I got to the kitchen, I found that Wood had baked
muffins. He set a mug in front of me, perfectly doctored, as well as
two muffins, slathered with butter.

"I
had no idea I had ingredients for muffins," I said, taking a
bite.

"Everything
but the blueberries, but Carl has them in his freezer. I helped
myself."

"You're
one of those perky morning types, aren't you?"

"Yes,
grumble pussy, I am."

I
groaned, holding the coffee mug to my forehead.

"Mornings
are what you make of them," he continued.

"I
want to make them go away. Is that possible?"

"You
have to make it fun. Find something to smile about."

I
sipped the coffee and took another bite of muffin, and managed a
vague impression of a smile. Wood leaned over, giving me a quick
kiss. I smiled more, sighing contentedly.

"See?
Morning isn't so bad after all."

"Not
with you in it," I replied without thinking.

Instead
of getting upset, he grinned, winking. "Trust me, there are
better uses for morning, but I'll try to be a gentleman."

I
groaned again, not in a good way.

"Not
a fan of morning sex?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Seriously?
I can barely see straight. I do not feel sexy in the morning."

"Haven't
woken up with the right man," he suggested casually as he walked
away.

I
had to admit, he was probably right. Mornings were often when Cory
chose to go off on me. He loved to argue and he picked at everything
I did. The coffee was too strong, or too weak. The eggs weren't done
right, the milk was curdled.

"He
was such a dick," I grumbled. "He made mornings extra
special by pitching tantrums."

Wood
sat across from me, arms crossed on the table, his chin on his
wrists. He looked up at me like a puppy dog. "I'll make you a
deal," he said, chin bobbing on his hands.

"What?"
I leaned over, resting my chin on my hands.

"I
won't talk about my bitch of an ex if you'll quit bringing up Cory.
Every time you mention him, I have this urge to kick him in the
nuts."

"That
makes two of us."

"I'm
not him, Portia. I'm not like him and I won't break your heart."

"It
wasn't the breaking as much as the ripping out of my chest part. And
the trampling it part. But you're right. Creepy Cory needs to be
thrown out with the garbage."

"Agreed."

"Maybe
we should introduce him to your ex."

"I
don't think the world would survive if the Bride of Frankenstein met
the Anti-Christ, do you?"

Saturday, January 16, 2016

These
two ladies totally rock. We had such fun, chatting about books and
reading excerpts. Be sure to tune in for this wonderful podcast.
Originally aired August 11, 2014 with guests PI Barrington, author of The
Brede Chronicles, Zippered Flesh, Isadora Daystar, and many more and FrannyArmstrong, author of Jinn
& Toxic and Amazon Intrigue.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Portia
Bledsoe is a recent resident of the Sunshine State. She inherited a
house and some money from a great-uncle she barely knows, though she
has come to find out that he was very fond of her, despite family
distance. She also inherited a wonderful neighbor, Carl, who looks
after her with fatherly care. Portia is in the process of fixing up
her home and Carl has a suggestion for a contractor to handle the
job.

"This
contractor have a name?"

"Sherwood
Cirocco."

"Wow,
that's a mouthful!" I muttered it to myself once or twice,
getting the feel for the name. "How did he get saddled with a
name like that?"

"By
being the only grandson," another voice said as the back screen
door swung open. "I got a name from every branch of the family.
You should see my birth certificate."

I
looked up into the smiling face of my Home Improvement buddy, Wood.
"So, this is your contractor, huh?" I allowed myself to
giggle. "Good to see you again, Mr. Sherwood Cirocco. When you
gave me that list of contractors, did you plan to just give me your
number?"

"Of
course." He trotted down the steps, dropping into the chair next
to me. "Question is, would you have called?"

"Oh,
yeah," I replied, failing to curtail my enthusiastic tone.

Sherwood
grinned, winking at me. "Cool." He glanced over at his
uncle. "Can I help with anything?"

"Yes,
entertain my guest. I need to get the water bottle." Carl
trotted up the steps, letting the screen door drop behind him.

I
laughed loudly, throwing him a harsh look. "I'm not addled. I
just embarrassed the hell out of myself."

"Oh?"
He crossed to the back porch and pulled a couple beers from the red
cooler on the steps. He popped off the tops, handing me one.

"The
not deformed comment. I don't want you to think I'm staring or
anything."

Wood
struck a pose, foot on the step, shoulders back, chin high, like a
Captain Morgan ad. "Look all you want. I'm not offended."
He held the pose a moment longer before taking a manly swig of his
beer. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cold liquid.

I
indulged myself, staring hungrily at him, watching his adam's apple
bob as he swallowed. How is it possible for someone to be sexy
drinking beer? I mean, my God, it's just . . . . a long, lean, tanned
throat with just enough stubble to be sexy as ever loving hell. . . .
Oh, God, I need to get laid!

Wood
spewed his beer, nearly toppling over from his manly pose. He stared
at me, wiping the dribbling beer with the back of his hand. "Excuse
me?"

"Oh,
Jesus! I said that aloud?" I pulled my shirt up, ducking my head
in like an ostrich. I buried my head under my arms, nearly spilling
my beer over my head. "Holy shit," I muttered. "I'm so
sorry."

Wood
couldn't stop laughing. I don't know what was worse, the fact I said
that or the fact he thought it was so amusing.

"It
wasn't that funny," I muttered, swiping at my eyes. I was so
embarrassed, I was crying.

"No,
my turn to be sorry," he chuckled, wiping tears of his own. I
need not add that his were from mirth. "I totally did that on
purpose," he admitted, handing me a napkin from a stack on the
table. "I'm really sorry. Been a long time since a woman looked
at me that way."

"What
way is that, Mr. Cirocco?"

He
flashed his crooked grin. "Like she wanted to eat me—in a
completely non-carnivorous and consenting adult kind of way."

"Dream
on, Mr. Cirocco!"

"So,
you weren't thinking that you wanted to lick me from head to foot?"
He shook his head in disbelief.

Monday, January 11, 2016

I've started something different this year. I used to advertise my shows exclusively on Facebook and Twitter. It (finally) occurred to me that not all my followers are following me there as well as here. So, I am adding new a new page to advertise my monthly shows. All shows are at 4:00 PM Eastern time and are two hours,

Saturday, January 09, 2016

This
week's podcast is from March of 2014 and features Nina Mason, CandaceC. Bowen and Etienne Gibbs. Each author talked about his or her work
and read excerpts from one of their books. We had a blast, as usual.
Join us and listen to these wonderful authors.

Tuesday, January 05, 2016

Brick
McMillan is back home in Florida for a funeral—his younger
brother's. There have been a lot of deaths in his family lately, his
father, his wife and now his brother Stony. However, the night he got
home, he was using Stony's computer and got a mysterious Instant
Message from a woman calling herself XYZ. She arranges a meeting with
him at the Panera in Daytona.

The
morning rush at Panera was tapering off when he ordered his coffee
and pastry. Finding a table wasn't hard. He sat in the main room,
over to one side, near the partition. From here, he could see the
back door, but not the front. He suspected that XYZ was a backdoor
user. As it happened, he was right.

Brick
spotted the tall, trim figured woman as soon as she walked in. Her
honey colored hair was pulled back in a loose chignon. She scanned
the restaurant, dark glasses raised to her forehead with one hand.
She wore a slate gray suit and low heeled black shoes. Her jacket was
buttoned, but there was a slight bulge under her left arm. She
spotted him on her second pass. Brick held up his coffee, saluting
her. Frowning, she strutted across the room, taking a seat across
from him at the table.

“You
need to work on your entrance,” he said after taking a sip. “I
knew it was you the second you walked in.”

“Do
you know who I am?”

“By
name? No. But my guess is you're a fed, not a cop.” He leaned
forward, forearms on the table, the cup between his hands.

Her
frown deepened. Her silence demanded an explanation.

“You
don't move like a cop. You move like a soldier. In plain clothes,
those glasses, shoes you can run in—Fed.”

She
flashed a wary smile. Her eyes were a vivid aquamarine. There was a
scattering of freckles across her pert nose.

“So,
this begs the questions—Why is a federal agent so anxious to talk
to my bother? And why does she sound so unconvinced that he's dead?”

“Mr.
McMillan....”

He
held up a finger, waving it at her as if chastising a spoiled child
for bad manners. “The way this works, you introduce yourself. Then
we chat.”

“Call
me Agent X.” She grinned and a hint of a twinkle lit up her eyes.

“I'd
rather not. I quit reading comic books thirty years ago.”

“Colleen,”
she told him.

“No
last name. So, like Pink or Seal....”

“Something
like that.” The smile faded. “Look, Brick, we can tease and flirt
all day—”

“Is
that what this is?” He leaned forward aggressively. “I thought
this was you telling me about your relationship with Stony.”

“It's
not an affair.”

“That
much I know. My brother's not a cheater. I figure it's business
related, but that's a puzzler. My brother was an engineer.”

She
sighed, leaning back. “May we start over?”

“Sure.”
He wiped his hand on his napkin before holding it out. “Brick
McMillan.”

She
shook it. Her grip was firm, her palm calloused. She spent a lot of
time with that handgun. “Colleen Underwood.”

“Federal
agent.”

“Yes.”

“FBI?
NSA?”

“RNS.”

“I
don't know that one—Oh! Rather Not Say,” he chuckled as he
translated her acronym. “Gotcha.”

Saturday, January 02, 2016

I've
decided to start something different here at Writer's Sanctuary. As
some of you know, I do monthly broadcasts on Blog Talk Radio. I have
shared the links in my Twitter feed, but I thought I'd start to
feature one a week here. They won't be in any kind of order, but I
hope you'll go back and listen to your favorite authors or find new
ones.

I'm
so fortunate to be able to do this show. I've met and chatted with
the famous and not so famous, and had a wonderful time. Dellani's Tea
Time and What's Write for Me are all about having fun, getting to
know the authors as people, and sharing our lives and laughter for a
couple of hours.

So
please, sit back and listen again (or for the first time) to these
wonderful people. The first show I'm listing is near and dear to my
heart. I have a wonderful publisher, based I Ireland, Tirgearr
Publishing. They have a fantastic series of erotic romances called
The City Nights Series. Each book is in a different city, worldwide,
and takes place in 24 hours. As erotic romances, these are a 50/50
blend of story line and hot love scenes, loads of fun to write!This podcast features Kemberlee Shortland, Troy Lambert, Lucy Felthouse, C. Margery Kempe, JD Martins, Jaz
Hartfield, Kristi
Ahlers, and Megan
Morgan,